My Bloody Valentine
by CheerfulChemist
Summary: This story is set during the time in season when Castle was a P.I. It was inspired by an image posted on Twitter and Instagram by @Artifex Prime. Castle accidentally stumbles onto a bloody clue to a murder and must discover the identities of both the victim and the killer, while he and Kate maneuver around his ban from the precinct.
1. Chapter 1

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 1

"Castle, what were you doing rummaging around in a dumpster?" Kate asked, sipping a glass of strawberry flavored seltzer at the kitchen counter. "I haven't seen you climb into one since we were trying to figure out who kidnapped Bennie in the lottery rigging scheme."

"Yeah well, I thought I'd lost something important, and I wanted to make sure I hadn't tossed it out by mistake."

"Something important," Kate mused, "with Valentine's Day coming up. You didn't stick my present in the wrong place again, did you?"

Castle fluttered his lashes. "Maybe I did, but not in the trash. I found it safe and sound in the pocket of another pair of pants. But for further enlightenment, you're going to have to wait. Anticipation is half the fun, isn't it?"

The tip of Kate's tongue rounded her lips, and she winked. "Depends on what you're anticipating. But before we get into that, show me what you found in the garbage."

"I bagged it, but I don't think we want it anywhere near the kitchen," Castle said, motioning the way to his office. "It's gross, even considering my usual appreciation for gore."

Castle pulled a tightly sealed bag from his desk and held it up for Kate to view. "Bloody gloves. And don't tell me it's paint. If you take a whiff, you'll detect that metallic tang that is morbidly unmistakable."

"I'll trust you on that, Babe," Kate replied, gingerly taking the scarlet-tinged evidence from him. "But I'll get this to the lab and see what they can find out. If the DNA is in the system, we may be able to find out just who our possible victim is."

"Let me know as soon as you hear anything."

"I will, Castle, but you know how Captain Gates is about having you anywhere near a case right now. If those gloves are evidence in a homicide, I won't be able to tell you anything about the investigation, and you'll have to keep your distance from the precinct."

"We'll traverse that trestle when we come to it," Castle said. "But until another P.I. case comes my way; I'm going to work on my new Derrick Storm novel. The man has an orphanage to support. He'll need to relieve some felonious fellow of his ill-gotten gains."

Kate pressed a quick strawberry flavored kiss to his lips. "You help your daring hero take care of the kids, and I'll see you later."

* * *

Shoving the hair that refused to stay out of her face, behind her ear, Kate stared down at the pile of documents on her desk. She wasn't really hoping that someone would be murdered, but slogging through paperwork between cases was mind-numbing, especially without Castle occupying the worn chair beside her desk. It wasn't just that he read faster than she did, making the work go more quickly. The pithy phrases he invented to describe an investigation gave life to the otherwise routinely dull words she had to commit to the page.

She understood the politics of 1PP excluding Castle from working with the N.Y.P.D., but just about everyone who knew Castle believed he'd had nothing to do with the hit on a homicidal cop. The brass was just covering their asses at hers and Castle's expense. She glanced at the time in the corner of her computer screen. 4:59 transformed to 5:00. Finally, she could give up on satisfying the bureaucracy for the day. Depending on the backlog in the lab, she should get a report on the results of Castle's dumpster diving, the next day. In the meantime, she was looking forward to a glass of the brain-fuzzing red wine Castle had discovered, a hot bath, and whatever else Castle's endless creativity might cook up.

* * *

The body lay by the side of the bed; blood soaked into the worn carpet. There had been a lot of it, pouring from where the chest had been slashed, and the eyes gouged out. Kyrsten had really thought she'd found her perfect man. As she'd grown up, she'd crushed on her neighbor in the next building, Richard Castle. She'd even taken a course at the Martha Rodgers School of Acting, hoping she'd get a chance to get close to him. He'd signed one of her books once and told her he liked her Derrick Storm T-shirt, but the 12 seconds he'd spent doing it had been the total of their interaction.

She'd thought it had been a miracle to find Anthony. He even looked like a younger version of Castle. His hairstyle was the same and flopped over his forehead in a way that made her want to push it back just so that she could put her fingers through it. He was an author too. He hadn't been published, but he had almost finished writing a spy novel. She'd been sure that it would be a best-seller and Anthony wouldn't have to keep working at the dry cleaners where she'd met him after some jerk had spilled ketchup on her favorite wool skirt. Once she'd connected with the man behind the counter, she hadn't even minded that a shadow of the stain remained. She'd just covered it with a tunic. She liked layers anyway.

But Anthony had lied. She had been searching his apartment for her Valentine's present. She'd been sure that it would be something wonderful that would show that he loved her as much as she loved him. But what she'd discovered hadn't been addressed to her. His note had declared his love to some bitch named Latrice. All the time he'd been with Kyrsten, he'd been looking at other women. Now he'd never look at another woman again.

* * *

Castle glanced up from arranging a plate with grapes and apple slices alongside cubes of Jack cheese and a small round of Brie, as Kate arrived at the loft. "Perfect timing! I decanted the wine a half-hour ago. We have intoxicating, savory and sweet."

"That's great, Babe. Up until now, my day didn't have any of those unless you count the taste of sucking on a papercut."

He nodded sympathetically. "I take it no murderer had the courtesy to give you anything you could get your detecting chops into. But how about my fascinating if gruesome discovery?"

"Nothing on that yet either. The lab has been running behind. Budget cuts." She held out her hand as he filled two glasses with wine. He gave her one, and she took an appreciative sip. "But I don't want to think about department glitches right now."

"And aside from a little alcoholic and culinary escape, what would you like to ponder?" Castle inquired.

"Something hot and foamy."

Castle choked. "A latte would not pair well with the wine. So, am I to assume that you intend to immerse yourself in sensuous swirling waters?"

"For a start. Then we can just see what might develops."

Castle swallowed as Kate took another taste of her wine before gliding toward the master bathroom.

With her ruby-filled glass on a table at the side of the oversized tub, Kate sank contentedly into the warm cherry scented bubbles and closed her eyes. The Jacuzzi buzzed as jet-propelled water stimulated the surface of her skin. She'd left the door half open and wasn't surprised when Castle came through, wrapped in his favorite Darth Vader bathrobe. "Room for two in there?"

Not taking her eyes from his face, Kate shifted to make space for him between her water-slicked thighs. "I've been waiting for you to ask."

As Obi Wan's cloak had done after the final thrust of Vader's lightsaber, the nubby mantle of the Sith lord slipped to the floor as Castle stepped in to join her.


	2. Chapter 2

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 2

The water sloshed perilously close to the edge of the tub as Castle joined Kate in the swirling heat. Their lips met amid the rising vapors. He pulled her to him, his arousal firm against her own. The endless length of her legs wrapped around him as they pressed even closer together, with only molecules of moisture between them. The pressure of her calves against his back urged him inward, the motion of their bodies creating waves around them that over-topped the porcelain barrier, splashing to the floor beneath. More immersed in each other than the errant liquid, they didn't care; their urgency building as her body surged to meet his every thrust. Kate's fingertips pressed marks into the skin of his shoulders as her back arched, strands of her hair slipping from the restraint of a clip, and dipping into the foam that topped the gyrating water. The tsunami that exploded from the depths of her body challenged the oscillating surface surrounding her, and a scream of triumph forced itself from her throat. Even as he was held within her, Castle's body convulsed in release, and they collapsed in each other's grasp.

* * *

Castle pressed the peddle of the wringer on his bucket, a final time. He either needed a bigger mop or an even larger tub. He was seriously considering the latter, but either way, the lake on the floor had been more than worth it. His top 10 with Kate definitely had a new entry.

When the languor that followed their water sports ebbed, Kate and Rick discovered that they craved more than fruit and cheese. While he took on cleanup duty, she was in the kitchen infusing a couple of rib-eye steaks with a peppery marinade. After he'd put the mop away, he would grill them and nuke a couple of potatoes while she made the salad. When she'd first come to the loft, he'd felt a little territorial about his kitchen, but he'd soon discovered that their mind meld enabled them to work as smoothly together on culinary pursuits as they did building theory on a case.

* * *

Red spilled onto the plate as Kate cut into the still sizzling meat that Castle had seared. Her mind immediately leaped to the bloody gloves Rick had fished out of the dumpster. While Castle's first thoughts and her own had been both of murder, an ordinary citizen might have assumed someone was cleaning fish or even rendering first aid to someone with a bad cut. There was really no reason to believe that a homicide had taken place, except that her gut told her one had. And if the gloves ended up in the dumpster behind 425 Broome Street, the probability was that it had occurred nearby, perhaps even in another apartment in the same building. She pushed the thought away. Until she heard from the lab, what Castle had found was nothing more than a pair of stained gloves. Still, if there had been a homicide, the gloves placed it firmly within the jurisdiction of the 12th Precinct. Having logged in the first piece of evidence, she would become the primary, but under Gates vigilant eyes, she still wouldn't have much leeway to consult with Castle.

* * *

Latrice knocked on the door of her stepbrother's apartment. She'd gone first to The Cleaning Corral to find him, but his boss said he hadn't shown up or called to offer an explanation for his absence in two days. That wasn't like Anthony. He might have spent his nights - at least the ones not taken up with a girlfriend - toiling at his keyboard, but he was too smart to jeopardize his day job. And if his boss didn't hear from him soon, he was in real danger of losing it. But Latrice was worried about more than Anthony's job. His health had gone through a couple of rough patches when they were growing up. There hadn't been much she could do except sit by his bed in the hospital and tell him funny stories about what was happening at school, but those times had forged a tight bond between them. He always returned her calls, but he hadn't responded to a voicemail for those same two days, and she was wondering if he could. When he didn't answer the door, she used her key. Her scream of anguish could be heard throughout the building.

* * *

Eyes struggling to open, Kate reached for her insistent cell phone. "Kate, you better get down here," Lanie said. "A body came in last night from the 23rd. I thought it was their case until five minutes ago. The vic matches the DNA on the gloves you sent to the lab. His name is Anthony Paul. It's way too late for a liver temp, but from the condition of the body, he's been dead at least two days."

Castle propped himself up on his elbow as Kate listened to the voice on her phone. "What's happening?"

"We know where the blood on the gloves came from. I need to get down to see Lanie."

* * *

Detective Larry Spitz was at the morgue when Kate arrived. "I'll be glad to hand this one off to you, Beckett. I've heard you like the weird ones."

"What's weird about it?" Kate asked.

Spitz shook his head. You'll see when you get a look at the body. But whoever did this is one sick puppy."

Joining Lanie beside the mutilated corpse, Kate pointed at Anthony Paul's empty eye sockets. "Were those the cause of death?"

Lanie pulled back the sheet so that Kate could see the other wounds on the body. "He bled out from multiple cuts. But it took a while. They weren't very deep. He probably went into shock before he died. I'd say the pattern suggests that the killer wasn't very strong but was either very pissed off or very determined."

"I'd think you'd have to be both to do that," Kate said. "Would the shallowness of the cuts suggest a woman?"

"Or a weak man," Lanie said. "We'll know more when CSU finishes the analysis of what Spitz brought in from the apartment and what I lifted from the body."

"While they're working on it, I'll be talking to his stepsister. Spitz said she found the body."

"Yeah, she made the ID," Lanie agreed. "But go gently with her Kate. She's a mess."

Kate nodded. "I can understand why."

* * *

Kyrsten gazed at the news alert on her phone. Anthony's body had been found. The police were withholding details of the case, but she was pretty sure no one would know she did it. She watched the crime shows on TV and knew what to do. She'd worn gloves and tucked her hair under a scarf before she went after Anthony. Even if they found her hair or DNA in the apartment, it wouldn't prove anything. She and Anthony had been dating. There was no reason it shouldn't be there. The knife had been his. She'd washed it with bleach and returned it to the block in his kitchen. There was no way there would be enough evidence to tie her to his death. She was almost sorry. She wanted the world to know what would happen to a guy who cheated on her. Most of all, she wished that Latrice - whoever she was - would know.


	3. Chapter 3

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 3

The tears on Latrice Donaldson's face had dried, but she couldn't stop the sobs that continued to rise unbidden from deep in her lungs. "I'm very sorry for your loss," Kate said softly, knowing how inadequate her words were.

Latrice drew in a shaky breath. "Thank you, Detective Beckett. Do you have any clue yet about who could have done such a horrible thing?"

"We have some evidence we're working on, Kate said. "But I was hoping you could tell me if there's anyone you know of who might want to hurt your stepbrother."

"Not really. I mean he has a lot of ex-girlfriends. You couldn't see it the way he… what was done… but he was pretty good looking. I guess you'd call it ruggedly handsome. A lot of the woman customers at The Cleaning Corral and some of the men used to hit on him. Here, I have a picture of him I took last week."

Kate regarded the image on Latrice's cell phone. It was a smiling selfie of Latrice and Anthony licking cones outside Jonsey's Ice Cream Parlor. Latrice was right about Anthony being ruggedly handsome. He looked a little like Castle. If she'd thought Anthony could afford it, she'd suspect they used the same hair stylist. The cut was a good imitation of the one she saw on the pillow beside her each morning. Warning lights flashed in her brain. Castle had found the gloves in the dumpster that served their building and the one next door. She'd thought that might have meant the murder was committed nearby, but Anthony's apartment was in a less pricey part of town. If the gloves weren't discarded near the crime scene, the killer must have disposed of them closer to home. Maybe too close to home. And there was Anthony's job at The Cleaning Corral. It was only six blocks from the loft. She'd taken her coats there a couple of times but hadn't been impressed with the job they did and decided to use a cleaner a block from the 12th instead. She suppressed a shudder. Could the murderer be connected to Castle by more than just an accidental discovery? She hated to think so, but she couldn't ignore the possibility.

* * *

Murray hated manning the front counter. The customers were always complaining. Was it his fault the EPA had clamped down on the solvent he'd grown up using when his father owned The Cleaning Corral? The replacements might be better for the environment, but he'd never gotten the hang of making them do the job. Anthony had been great at handling customers. His smile had convinced them to keep coming back, even if a stain or two occasionally remained. Murray possessed no such talent. Since Anthony had been killed, business was falling off, although a few customers had stopped by to leave cards or flowers as tributes. He'd put an ad to fill Anthony's position online and was hoping for the best.

When the willowy woman walked through the door of the shop, Murray hoped that she was there to apply for the job. She might not attract the women, but she sure would pull in the men, and he made better money cleaning men's clothes anyway. He was disappointed when she held up her badge. "Detective Kate Beckett. Are you the owner?"

Murray nodded allowing his gaze to sweep down Kate's body. He noticed that the Burberry tie coat she wore was wool, as were the pants under it, and wondered where she got her cleaning done.

"Mr. …"

"Stempson," Murray inserted.

"Mr. Stempson, I need to ask you some questions about Anthony Paul," Kate continued. "I was told that he worked here."

"My best employee," Murray confirmed sadly. "A great loss."

"I'm very sorry," Kate replied. "But maybe you can help find his killer. Is there anyone you know who might have had a grudge against him, who might have wanted to hurt him?"

Murray stroked the stubble that was beginning to form on the jowls that rounded his jawline. "Everyone liked Anthony. I don't mean to be offensive, Detective, but the ladies were crazy about him."

"Any particular lady?" Kate asked.

Murray's brow furrowed beneath his rapidly receding hairline. "No, oh wait! There is one woman who came around a lot. Kind of pretty, in a mousy sort of way, but she seemed a little off. She was always flirting with him, but it was awkward, you know like she didn't understand the signals. He said something about a mercy date, but I think they might have had more than that."

"Do you remember her name?" Kate asked.

"Kristen, no Kyrsten. Yeah, I remember seeing the name on the tags of some of the clothes she brought in. Very well made. Ready-to-wear, but definitely not off the bargain rack."

"Do you remember her last name?"

Murray shook his head. "No. And she liked to pay in cash. I remember because not many customers do. So, there are no credit card receipts, but the bills were always twenties in good shape, so she probably got them from an ATM around here."

"That's very astute, Mr. Stempson, thank you."

"Well when you run a business, you look at things like that. People try to pass phony bills, you know? The credit cards, I can check. When it's cash, I have to be careful."

"Do you remember her face well enough to work with a police artist?" Kate asked.

Murray shrugged. I suppose so, but without Anthony, I have a lot of work to do here. I can't take time off during the day, but I close at seven."

"That's fine, Mr. Stempson, I can arrange for someone to work with you this evening." Kate handed him a card. "And call me - anytime - if you think of anything else."

"I'll do that, Detective."

* * *

Castle leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Derrick Storm had just provided the orphanage with all the funds it could ever need. His story ended on a heartwarming note. The Stormers would be happy with this one. He just wished he'd heard something from Kate about the real case. He knew she was following, if reluctantly, her captain's orders and keeping her cards close to her chest, but there had to be something he could work on. He thought about the dumpster. It was only accessible from the doors that opened out on the alley behind his building and the one next door. The area was behind locked gates, topped with wrought iron spikes. The robotic arms of a trash truck could reach over it, but a human being would have a dangerous climb. The killer had to be one of his neighbors. With a little gumshoeing, he might be able to figure out who. He knew where to start. Doormen in New York saw almost everything the residents of their buildings did, and what they didn't see, they usually heard about. He could start with Eduardo, who with any luck might even be buddies with his compatriot next door. He checked his watch. Eduardo's shift would begin at noon. That gave him a few minutes to fortify himself with leftover steak before he set out on the trail of a murderous neighbor.


	4. Chapter 4

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 4

While the quick-crisping french fries he'd put in the oven to go with his steak, were heating, Castle scanned his phone for images of Anthony Paul. He'd checked before and been unable to find any, but he figured something might have been posted in memoriam. His eyes widened when a picture popped up on a Castle website. A fan had commented that the tragic passing of Anthony Paul was ironic since the Castle doppelganger of their favorite writer of murder mysteries, had been murdered himself. "Not irony," Castle muttered, "odd coincidence - or maybe more than that." He regarded Anthony's picture, evaluating the resemblance. The hair was right - or almost right. The eyes were too close together, and Anthony's shoulders didn't have the solid Castle breadth, but Anthony's appearance bore some similarity to his own. Suddenly, Rick's hunger for his steak and fries vanished. With a murderer who lived within shouting distance and a victim who in a dark room might have passed for him: this case was getting too close to home.

The sound of Roy Orbison crying "Mercy!" at the sight of a pretty woman, rose from the pocket of Castle's jeans. He quickly accepted Kate's call. "Babe, there's something I have to tell you."

"That you think the murder has something to do with me, the killer is nearby, and you're worried." he concluded.

"Yeah," Kate admitted. "How did you figure it out?"

"You're not the only one around here with a brilliant deductive mind, Kate."

"There's more, Castle. From what I got from Lanie, and Anthony Paul's boss, I think it might be a woman, maybe one who's obsessed with you. But I won't have a sketch until tonight."

"I was planning on doing some investigating before then," Castle admitted.

"We could do it together," Kate suggested. "I am the one who carries a gun."

"What about Gates?" Castle asked.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Kate declared. "Wait for me?"

"Always," Castle promised. Suddenly the taste of his savory snack had regained its appeal, especially if Kate would be coming to share it.

* * *

"A woman asking about Mr. Castle," Eduardo reiterated. "I don't know how they find out where he lives, but women do that all the time. I don't tell them nothing," he quickly added.

Castle let the double negative pass. "You're a good man, Eduardo, of course, you don't. But is there one woman in particular who might live here or in the next building over? Perhaps she's been around more than once. Or, she might have been near the dumpster a couple of days ago."

"Uh huh, there might have been a woman like that. I saw her when I was hailing a cab for Mrs. Dunphy. I didn't get much of a look, but I figured she was from Murphy's building because unless our people have something too big to fit, they put their trash down the chute. I was surprised to see you out there, too, after I saw her. Did you find what you were looking for?'

"In a way," Castle replied.

"The woman at the dumpster, was she one of the ones who asked about Castle?" Kate prompted.

Eduardo scrubbed his hand over his face. "Like I said, I was too busy getting Mrs. Dunphy's cab to get a good look, but it could have been."

Castle clapped Eduardo on the shoulder and handed him a $100 bill. "Thanks, man, I owe you."

Eduardo held up the money. "This will more than cover it, Mr. Castle."

"Maybe we should go talk to Murphy," Castle suggested as he and Kate took the elevator back to the loft for coffee.

Kate shook her head. "It would be better to wait until we have a sketch to show him. If he knows the people in his building, as well as Eduardo knows the people in ours, he should be able to tell us who it is right away."

"And probably her life story," Castle added. "After you've satisfied your caffeine craving, will you be returning to the precinct?"

"I'm officially on my lunch break, and I have to go back to keep Gates at bay. We have a few more minutes before I'll have to leave." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I bet we can find something to do with them."

"I'm sure we can," Castle agreed. "And we might want to skip the coffee."

* * *

With a skosh of jealousy, Victoria Gates noted the glow on Kate's face. She imagined that Kate had indulged in more than lunch, but if that was all the sharing she was doing with her husband, it was fine. Victoria could recall having a few nooners herself when she was first married. Kate was filling out case notes, and she would be staying that evening. Victoria couldn't begrudge her a break.

* * *

Close to the end of his shift, Murphy squinted at the sketch Kate Beckett had given him. "Sure, I know her. That's Kyrsten Dodgeson."

"Of the New York Dodgesons?" Castle asked. "Owners of half of the Upper East Side?"

"I don't know about that," Murphy replied. "But as near as I can tell, she doesn't have a job. I mean she doesn't leave and come back like she's working, but she can afford to live here. So, she must have money."

"Has she ever asked about Mr. Castle?" Kate inquired.

Murphy nodded vigorously. "Oh Man! She sure has. She offered me a hundred if I could talk Eduardo into telling her when Mr. Castle would be around. But I wouldn't do it. Lotta celebrities live around here, and there's a code. I mean it's different when a detective like you is asking, Ms. Beckett. But from everyone else, you protect your people, or you don't have any people to protect for long. You know?"

"Of course, Mr. Murphy, I understand," Kate assured him. "Is Kyrsten Dodgeson in now?"

"I put her in a cab a coupla hours ago. I heard her tell the driver she wanted to go to 72nd and Columbus."

"That's where Clues Incorporated meets," Castle noted, while Murphy went to help a resident with some luggage. "It's a mystery book club. I did a reading for them from Naked Heat."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess: page 105."

Castle shuffled his feet against the tile of ornate lobby floor and swallowed. "I started on 104, but yes. It was before we … anyway, that was the most popular request at the time. He pointed at Kate's sketch of Kyrsten. "I don't remember her, but then I don't remember the women at most of those things - except for the time you showed up. But I can call up Clarissa Dunkleman, Castlefan 1957. She runs the place. If Kyrsten is a member, she'll tell me, especially if I offer her another reading."

"Just pick another passage," Kate advised. "From what I found out at The Cleaning Corral, I don't think Kyrsten is one of the richer Dodgesons. Her clothes are upscale but off-the-rack. Still, if we pull her in for questioning before we have more of a case, the family could complain to the brass."

"Which wouldn't put Iron Gates in her shiniest mood," Castle assumed. "So aside from schmoozing Clarissa, where do we go from here?"

"I'll know that when I get the results from the lab, Babe. But for now, I think we can call it a night."

Castle put his arm around her waist pulling her against his side and kissing her hair. "The day was outstanding, but the night can be even better."


	5. Chapter 5

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 5

"Oh, Mr. Castle," Clarissa Dunkleman gushed, "It is so lovely to hear from you. I was just re-reading Raging Heat, and I truly adore it. So much passion! But you said you had a question about one of our members?"

"Yes Clarissa, I did, Kyrsten Dodgeson. I believe she is a neighbor of mine and I heard she's been trying to get in touch."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Clarissa said. "She has always been one of your most enthusiastic fans. I believe she can quote some of your books by heart. During most of the time she's been with us, she claimed that she was looking for her own Richard Castle. Then for a month or two recently, she was floating a few inches above her chair during meetings. I got the impression she might have found someone, but when she was here last night, it looked like she'd fallen back to earth - and hit hard. Perhaps it was a bad breakup. But she'd be back over the moon at a visit or even a call from you. Give me a moment, and I'll find her contact information for you."

"That would be outstanding, Clarissa, thank you. I hope to see you and the other discerning members of Clues Incorporated very soon."

Castle vibrated in excitement as he put his arms around Kate. "Did you hear? What Clarissa said couldn't fit our theory of the crime better!"

"I know, Babe, but it's still just a theory, and…" Kates cell phone buzzed. "It's the lab." With Castle reading over her shoulder, Kate scanned the details of a report the lab had attached to an email. "They have fingerprints and DNA, but they don't match anyone in the system."

Castle pointed to a paragraph in the report. "Yeah, but look at this, Kate. They found what they think was the murder weapon and it had been cleaned with bleach. And there were prints on the bleach bottle under the sink that matched the ones on the water faucets. But the only prints on the other cleaning supplies belong to Anthony. That would suggest that whoever left the prints on the bleach bottle didn't do it out of any germophobic tendencies. Those prints belong to our killer. All we need is to get a match, and I know just what to do."

Kate put a hand on his arm. "You're not going to see Kyrsten Dodgeson alone!"

"Kate, there's no way Kyrsten won't know who you are if she's a Castle fan. Part of the legend of Nikki Heat is that she's based on you, the real love of my life. If I'm going to get anything out of her, I'm not going to do it with you standing there. But I have all my P.I. surveillance equipment. You can watch and listen in, and if anything goes south, you can execute a daring rescue."

"Babe, I don't like it. If we're right about Kyrsten, she gouged a man's eyes out, eyes she'd pictured as yours."

"I know," Castle acknowledged, "but do you have a better idea?"

Kate bit her lip. "No. But I'm going to be keeping an eye on Kyrsten's every move, and if I don't like what I see, I will be coming in."

Rick ran a fingertip over the soft flesh Kate's teeth had been abusing. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

* * *

Kyrsten couldn't believe it. Not only had Richard Castle called, but he'd said he was going to come by. She was determined that everything would be perfect. Mercedes had been in to clean the day before, but she often left dust behind. Kyrsten would make sure every nook and cranny was pristine. And then there was the food. Every fan knew Castle like coffee. Or maybe wine would be better. Sancerre was the favorite of Rook and Nikki, but that didn't mean that Castle liked it. Dorothy L. Sayers had made Lord Peter Wimsey love port when she couldn't stand it herself. Inspiration struck as she remembered the pastries that Clarissa had put out when he came to Clues Incorporated. They'd been from the bakery four blocks up on Columbus Avenue. Richard Castle had eaten four of them. There was no time to go that far uptown to get some, but the bakery around the corner had the same kind. She'd put them on her limited-edition Derrick Storm plate. Maybe he'd stay and eat more than four. Perhaps he'd visit all afternoon. She kept the dream in her head as she hurried out the door to buy the sweet cakes.

* * *

Kate carefully attached the buttonhole camera to Castle's shirt and checked the microphone he'd substituted for one of his collar stays. "Say something."

"With stoutest fists and loudest boasts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."

"Wow, Castle, I don't know how you get even your talented tongue around that one."

"Talented tongue. Thank you for that. Perhaps we can explore that further and in a more pleasurable way, later. But I have Mother to thank for my proficiency with diction. Tongue twisters were part of the vocal exercises she imposed on everyone who dared to be in her orbit backstage when I was growing up. That's always been my favorite because the images it conjures up are both spooky and swashbuckling. Kind of like Jack Sparrow would be if he lost the eyeliner."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I should be able to hear you fine and spot anything threatening Kyrsten does. But it will be like when you got yourself into that mess with the Russian card sharks. You won't be able to hear me."

"I will count the seconds until your dulcet tones can again reach my ears."

* * *

Kyrsten smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her dress. She'd tried on six outfits before returning to her original choice. The dress had simple lines, as her mother had always stressed that the most sophisticated clothes did, but it was of airy silk. Just the touch of it against her skin made her feel beautiful. She hoped that feeling would be reflected in her face. Her breath caught at the rhythmic knock on her door but she steadied herself. Richard Castle was right on time.

Castle steeled himself to smile and kiss what he was sure was a murderous hand. It was smooth and carefully manicured with the latest fad in nail color, but his stomach twisted nonetheless. "May I come in?"

Kyrsten practically jumped aside to usher him through the door. "Of course. Mr. Castle – may I call you Richard?"

"My mother calls me Richard, and you are certainly not my mother. "How about Rick?"

"Rick," Kyrsten repeated. "I'm so glad you're here. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about."

"That's right Kyrsten," Rick confirmed as he took the seat she waved him toward on the couch. "I've been planning a new series, and I was wondering what would be interesting to my fans. Clarissa told me that you show considerable insight at Clues Incorporated meetings, and I'd like to know what's on your mind. For example, if I were to write about a new hero, what would he be like?"

"Could you give me a moment to think about that?" Kyrsten asked, desperately wracking her brain. She offered him a mug of coffee with a symbol he'd never seen before painted on the side. and put the carefully arranged baked goods on the coffee table in front of him while she tried to think of some idea that would impress him.

Castle carefully accepted the mug and regarded the one Kyrsten had chosen for herself. It was similar, but with a different symbol. he had the perfect set-up to put his plan into action.


	6. Chapter 6

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 6

"Perhaps it would start your wheels turning if I told you about one idea I had," Castle offered. "I thought I might give my protagonist a disability. I imagined him on a mission in Africa, to rescue some children who had been kidnapped to be brainwashed into becoming soldiers in a terrorist army. He'd be captured and tortured. I'm not sure I like the next part I came up with. It's a bit of a trope. I was going to have his captors gouge his eyes out, so he'd be blind."

Kyrsten choked, spilling coffee all over the delicate fabric of her sheath.

"Oh, what a shame," Castle sympathized. "Such a lovely dress. You might be able to save it if you get some cold water on it quickly enough."

Kyrsten nodded and hurried off toward the bathroom.

"Castle!" Kate exclaimed, frustrated in the knowledge that he couldn't hear her. "Are you trying to get the bitch to come after you?"

"Relax, Kate," Castle whispered into his hidden microphone, as if sensing her trepidation. "Kyrsten's reaction was just what I was hoping for. It confirmed our theory. And I think I can get just what we need."

Kate palmed her forehead and crossed the fingers on both her hands.

As Kyrsten returned, Castle could glimpse a hint of cleavage through the now translucent silk. He was anything but aroused, but he kept his eyes on the dampness while smiling at Kyrsten. It looks like you got the coffee out before it stained. But I can understand why you might not have liked the whole blindness thing. It really is hack. Just offhand, I can remember it showing up on a "Mentalist" and a "Forever Knight." I even saw it on an old "Hawaii Five-O," the Jack Lord version. You're too young to remember that. I only saw it in a rerun, myself. But I just thought of an alternative plot twist. What would you think of something like the hero sustaining brain damage that causes his mind to transform words into symbols periodically?"

Kyrsten drew in a deep breath. "I've never heard of anything like that before, but all your writing is so creative, Rick."

"I try," Castle acknowledged. "I got that idea from looking at your coffee mugs. I've never seen symbols like those before. Where do they originate?"

"I bought the mugs from a street artist in the village. She said her cousin had seen the symbols when he went on a mission to build a clinic for some Amazon tribe. She put the symbols on mugs for him, and his friends liked them so much, she made more to sell. With all the exotic locations you feature in your stories, I thought they might be interesting to you."

"More than interesting," Castle said, "I'd love to use them in a story, complete with the remnants of coffee. Could I borrow them for a while?"

"You can have them, Rick! They can be your new muse."

Kate punched the air in victory as Castle tamped down the instinct to do the same. "That's very kind, Kyrsten, but I should give you something in return."

Kyrsten reached for a stack of Castle books on a nearby end table. "Just write something special for me in these."

Castle lowered his head in an abbreviated bow and pulled an ever-present marker from his pocket. "Kyrsten, that would be my very great pleasure."

* * *

Kate stood in Gate's office as the captain pointed her reading glasses at the report Kate had given her. "Now let me get this straight. Your husband was investigating a woman he thought might be stalking him."

"Our doorman put us on to her. He was very concerned," Kate explained.

"So, I read," Gates said. "And to protect your husband, you submitted a mug that had this woman's fingerprints and DNA on it to the lab, and they just happened to find a match to the suspect in the killing of Anthony Paul."

"Yes sir," Kate confirmed.

"Detective, I'm not buying that for a minute, but I have no reason to upset the brass at 1PP by disputing it, either. We can't let them think any of our evidence is suspect if we're going after a member of the Dodgeson family."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you send a unit for her?" Gates asked.

"They should be bringing her in any time, sir."

"I'm going to handle the interrogation. If you're claiming this woman was stalking Castle, I can't have you in there, or Castle's buddies Ryan and Esposito either. We can't have anything a Dodgeson lawyer might be able to use to show bias on the part of the N.Y.P.D."

"Can I observe, sir?" Kate queried.

"Just don't let the suspect see you." Gates ordered.

* * *

Kyrsten stared at the woman opposite her at the metal table. She had been expecting a hard-boiled detective, maybe even Kate Beckett. The black woman in the stylish suit with reading glasses on the tip of her nose was not what she had pictured. But it didn't matter. She'd already called her family's lawyer, and she was sure he'd be arriving soon. She was too smart to say anything until he did.

Gates made a point of glancing at the delicate watch her sister had given her on her last birthday. "It would appear that your counsel is taking his time, Ms. Dodgeson. Until he gets here, you can listen. We have evidence against you, extremely damning evidence that you killed Anthony Paul. Now you may think that your family is rich enough and your lawyer is skillful enough so you'll escape punishment. But I can guarantee you that you won't. My detectives are good, and our crime lab doesn't make mistakes. The only thing your high-priced legal help can do is get you the best deal possible, and no D.A. will give you that without a confession. Gates rose and stared darkly at Kirsten. Until your attorney arrives, I'll just leave you to think about that."

As the door closed behind Gates, Kyrsten buried her head in her hands.

* * *

With the ring of crystal, Castle touched his goblet of ruby liquid to the one Kate held. "To a successful collar. You think Kyrsten's going to take a plea deal?"

"I don't know." Kate replied. "I can't see the prosecution offering much. The only reason to give Kyrsten anything at all is to avoid the cost of a trial, and I think the D.A. might enjoy this one. With a Dodgeson involved, even a relatively poor cousin, it would be high profile. And if she has political ambitions, it could be a steppingstone. But either way, we have Kyrsten cold. When we searched her apartment, we found the shoes she'd been wearing when she killed Anthony. She wouldn't have noticed the microscopic droplets of his blood CSU found. She might get by claiming that all the other evidence found in his apartment, even her prints on the murder weapon, were there because they were dating, but the shoes peg her as the killer. If the D.A. doesn't offer a deal and case goes to trial, her attorney is going to hit a brick wall."

"So, I guess the case of the Dumpster Dame is closed," Castle said.

"Not quite, Babe. I still don't know what you were looking for in that dumpster when you found the gloves."

"Valentine's Day isn't until tomorrow," Castle reminded her. "But I'm sure I can find some way to amuse you while you wait."

Kate fingered the clasp on her slacks. "You were going to show me more examples of the talents of your tongue."

Castle wiggled his eyebrows. "I was, at that."


	7. Chapter 7

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 7

Kate was drawn from a half-drowse by Castle's warm whisper against her ear. "Happy Valentine's Day."

With a feline stretch, she turned toward him. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too, but I think we got a great start on it last night."

"We did indeed." He pulled back the sheet and kissed the tender flesh of her neck. "But there are always more treasures to uncover."

Kate kicked the sheet and comforter down to the foot of the bed, exposing Castle's growing enthusiasm. She teased it with the tip of her finger. "I think you're right."

"With the case wrapped up, you're off today, aren't you?"

"The advantages of comp time."

"Allowing for comp-rehensive exploration. See what I did there?"

Kate's slim hand encircled his growing heat. "I'm more interested in what you're going to do."

"I think," Castle considered, fingering a tender pink tip, "I'll start up here and sample everything on the way down. If you'd like to start a journey of discovery of your own, perhaps we can meet up somewhere in the middle."

Kate gasped as his mouth replaced his hand, then drew a quick breath. "Sounds like a plan."

The room faded as every square inch of sensitized skin was laved and stroked until the need growing deep inside Kate became impossible to bear. Desperately grasping the firm roundness at the base of Rick's back, she drew him into her slick warmth. There could be no more waiting. Their bodies collided, urgency growing at every thrust. As a tectonic shift rocked her being, Kate felt a cascade of shocks sweep through her, tightening her intimate grasp. Their release came in concert, forcing the air from their lungs, and leaving them panting but still joined.

Castle was the first to regain the power to move, pulling back carefully to avoid landing either one of them in a puddle. "That was amazing! I feel like giving you your present will be, no pun intended, anticlimactic, but I've kept it securely stowed and away from dumpsters and other women's pockets."

Kate pulled herself up slowly against the only pillow remaining on the bed. "Good to know."

Groaning slightly as his muscles protested, Castle donned his robe. He padded barefoot the few steps to his office to recover a velvet box from a wall safe hidden behind his painting of a plunging staircase. Affixing a shiny red bow, he pulled from a drawer in his desk; he returned to hand the case to Kate, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a sheet covering her lap.

"To the best homicide cop in the city and possibly the world."

Kate flipped open the plush container to see a gold badge pendant with 41319 formed in diamonds. Matching gold and diamond earrings accompanied it on both sides. "Castle, these are incredible!" She winked and played with his earlobe. "But I don't think Gates will consider them as regulation ID."

"Probably not," Castle agreed. "But you can always wear them on the cases we pursue privately."

"I plan to," Kate said. "And my present to you may give us a perfect chance."

Castle raised an eyebrow as Kate hopped off the bed to retrieve a large gold envelope from her purse. Triumphantly, she handed it to him. "Here, open it."

Castle turned it over and broke a wax seal embossed with a magnifying glass. "Tickets for a mystery cruise!" He pulled her in for a deep kiss. "I love it, but I thought you didn't have any vacation days left."

"The cruise is over a weekend, and I've accumulated a couple more since your little shootout at the OK Corral. So, we can do it. We just need to fly down to the Bahamas."

"A mystery and a break from New York winter. I can hardly wait!"

"Look at the date, Babe. You won't have to wait long. It's scheduled for next weekend. But while we are waiting, I'm starved."

"Valentine's Day waffles with fresh strawberries, whipped cream, and sprinkles?" Castle inquired.

Kate reached up to stroke his temple. "Our mind meld is going strong."

* * *

When Kate returned to work Feb. 15, the loft seemed uncomfortably empty to Castle. He decided to compensate by immersing himself in penning his new Derrick Storm novel. Adding the character of Carl Storm was bittersweet. Carl looked like Jackson Hunt, but otherwise was much more like the father Castle had imagined than the father he'd finally met. While Carl was every bit as skilled as Jackson, he took no joy in the kill. More than that, he had steadfastly been there for Derrick, both as a child and as a man. Castle envied his creation that, and enjoyed wrapping himself in the imaginary warmth the relationship generated. It wasn't quite as good as wrapping himself in Kate, but it was comforting in her absence.

He had no idea if she had a new case. It was most likely better not to know. Gates had been upset enough by his intrusion into Anthony Paul's murder. Until Kate was back in the captain's good graces, it was best if he kept his nose out of precinct business, and what he didn't know couldn't tempt him. As far as Kate had heard, Kyrsten Dodgeson had not struck a deal with the D.A., and Kate would have to make sure she had her ducks, or at least her elephants, in a row, for whenever a trial took place. There was a good chance he would have to testify as to the chain of custody of the mugs from which Kyrsten's prints and DNA had been obtained. If that didn't hold, the case could very well be thrown out. But he was sure that since the mugs had been freely given to him and their path was documented from him, to Kate, to the lab, there would be no problem. The last news he'd had was that Kyrsten's arraignment was scheduled for that afternoon. After that, she could await trial in the women's facility at Rikers.

* * *

Kate sat in the back of the courtroom waiting for Kyrsten to be brought in. Arraignments usually proceeded quickly, but there had been a lot of them that afternoon, and she was getting restless. Finally, Kyrsten was standing before the judge. Despite her cuffs, she looked too relaxed for someone who was about to spend a lifetime behind bars. She and her lawyer exchanged looks, and he nodded.

"How does the defendant plead?" Judge Morrisey asked.

"Not guilty your honor," Kyrsten replied.

"And at this time, we are requesting that a reasonable bail be set," her attorney added.

"Your Honor," the prosecutor protested, "the defendant is accused of homicide of the most horrific nature."

"Accused being the operative word," the defense attorney argued. "Your honor, my client has no criminal record. She has family and deep roots in this city. There is no reason to believe that she would not return for a trial in which I have full confidence that she will be acquitted."

"She also has the means to flee the country," Morrissey pointed out, "but very well, bond is set at $5 million. The defendant will surrender her passport and wear an electronic tracking device until she stands trial. If she makes any effort to leave the city, she will be immediately remanded to custody."

Kate's nails dug into her palms. Kyrsten would be free and only a building away from the Castle loft. She'd have to make sure its security was hardened. She'd also never been so glad that she and Rick would soon be far from New York City.


	8. Chapter 8

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 8

The man who came to Kyrsten's door didn't look at all like a criminal. His face was unscarred, and as far as she could tell, his skin was unmarked by tattoos. He wore a well-tailored suit and carried a high-end leather briefcase. When she waved him inside, he pulled a small leather pouch containing delicate tools from the inside pocket of his jacket. "First, we'll get that anklet off and make sure that it's still putting out a signal showing that you're in your apartment." Hunkering down, he quickly performed the task, before walking over to her couch and perching on the edge. Opening his briefcase, he placed a passport on Kyrsten's coffee table. This should get you on a plane and past customs." He also laid out several plastic cards. "These will get you whatever you need and give you access to cash from an account in the Caymans. Papa Bear says to get your ass out of New York. When your departure from the city is detected, it will be gone from the news cycle in less than 24 hours. But he doesn't want the publicity of a trial casting a constant shadow over the family's business. Any idea where you want to go?"

Kyrsten shook her head. "No yet, but I'll figure it out."

"Figure it out quickly," her visitor instructed. "Eventually your monitor will be pinged, and if it hasn't shown any movement, the cops will be suspicious and come to check on you. By then, you'll need to be unreachable."

"I understand," Kyrsten agreed, as her visitor stood and took his leave.

In a habit she'd been unable to break, Kyrsten scanned the internet for recent mentions of Richard Castle. Her eyes widened, and her breath came in gasps when she noted a tweet from Mystery Cruises, Inc. announcing that celebrated best-selling author Richard Castle and his wife Detective Kate Beckett would be aboard a cruise departing from the Bahamas the coming weekend. "Well, Rick," she murmured "you're going to face more than clues."

Yanking open the door of her walk-in closet, she peered at the warm-weather section of her wardrobe. It would need some adaptation, but she could do that in the Bahamas. If she caught the first available flight, she'd be in Nassau before Rick and Kate arrived. And she would make it a vacation from which Rick would never return.

* * *

Even under the straw hats they'd picked up at the airport, Rick and Kate blinked in the bright sunshine as they boarded the Agatha, while musicians beat out a welcome on goatskin drums. Befitting its name, the décor of the ship was a throwback to the twenties, a theme reflected in the vintage dress of the crew. A smiling young man, holding an old-fashioned bound ledger, directed them to their cabin.

Even in first class, the quarters were tight, and the bed was only a double instead of a queen or king. Castle bounced on it to assess its potential for sparking amorous adventures. "Not bad. Not as narrow as the bunkhouse bed we were in at the start of our abbreviated honeymoon, but we'll still be snuggling - at least when we're not out hunting for clues or stuffing ourselves on period cuisine. Unfortunately, the chef will probably eschew the tastiest innovations of the time. Did you know Reese's Peanut Butter Cups were invented in the twenties? And that's when Hostess cakes began going into lunchboxes, and White Castle started selling hamburgers. Of course, the nutrition police spoiled all that by adding the vegetables to red-blooded American meat and potatoes. A split-personality era, not unlike our own, trying to be healthy and decadent at the same time."

"Research, Castle?" Kate queried. "I don't recall any of your books taking place in the 1920's."

"No, I looked it all up for Mother when she was in a musical saluting the Ziegfield Follies. She wanted to steep herself in the culture of the times. But I was the one who ended up eating all the peanut butter cups. She needed to fit into her flapper costume. She still has it. She wore it for Halloween a few years ago. She was determined to shake her booty and her fringes with it."

"Knowing Martha, I'm sure she succeeded in giving quite a performance. If I'd known about the costume, I might have asked to borrow it from her," Kate mused.

Castle cupped the curve of her derriere. "Wouldn't have fit. You have some most pleasing fullness of which Mother despairs her lack. But I'm sure we can obtain appropriate costumery on board. I noticed a shop full of it on our way down to our cozy seafaring nest. But for our mutual delight, I hope you packed that filmy confection with the ribbons that…"

"I brought it, Castle." Kate zipped open a bag that had been stowed in their cabin by the crew before they'd boarded. She held up the deerstalker hat she'd bought for him after he'd solved his first real case as a P.I. "I brought this too."

"Hmm," Castle responded. "Sherlock's final case was in 1914, but I suppose we could indulge in some anachronistic cosplay in our private chamber. Tit for tat, though. I wear the hat, but I get to pull on your ribbons."

Kate bumped him with her hip. "I was planning to pull on something myself."

* * *

Kyrsten could barely move in her tiny cabin. She'd hoped for one on the upper deck where Rick and Kate were no doubt housed in luxury, but had it not been for a last-minute cancellation, she wouldn't even have been able to get the minuscule quarters in which she stood. Despite her cramped accommodations, she'd be fine. Gaining the opportunity to join in the quest to solve a murder with the rest of the passengers, including Castle and his fucking detective wife, was what mattered. She'd already figured out how to avoid being recognized. Aside from the heavy makeup she planned to apply, she'd be portraying a mysterious character named Lily Veil, whose face was always concealed. When she did get close enough to execute a plan she'd yet to formulate, the soon-to-be unhappy couple would never know she was there. She would unmask at the denouement of her deception, when it was too late for Rick and Kate to save themselves. She'd work out the remaining details when she had memorized all the aspect of her surroundings. Sitting on her bed, she unfolded a map showing the layout of the ship and traced her finger over every line. Kyrsten checked her watch. She had a half-hour before the first seating for lunch. It was time to become her alter ego.

* * *

Rick and Kate slid into their well-padded chairs. As honored guests, they were at the captain's table. He and his officers wore lightweight cotton uniforms with shorts, symbolic of the loosening of clothing restrictions of Agatha Christie's era. Despite prohibition having been in full force in the United States at the time, the high seas were immune from the repression of the temperance laws. Champagne chilled in an ice bucket on a stand at the side of the table. Captain Stuber opened the sparkling liquid with a pop and expertly poured it into crystal flutes for his guests. Stuber raised his glass. "May your searches be fruitful, and the clues lead you to excitement and wisdom. To a voyage of fair winds, gentle waters, bright skies and brighter inspiration."

Castle raised his glass in response. "To the triumph of sleuthing superiority."

"And by that you meant yours," Kate whispered behind a bill of fare.

Castle squeezed her hand beneath the table. "No, by that I meant ours."


	9. Chapter 9

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 9

The body lay on the floor of the engine room. The grimy hair of the man in equally grimy coveralls was caked with red. "He was our chief engineer," Captain Stubing explained to the passengers examining the scene. The crime solvers looked over the faux corpse while scribbling notes in leather covered notebooks the ship had provided. Kate wished there was a faux Lanie to explain the medical details of the case, but her sharp eyes carefully scanned the victim.

While Kate made her observations of the hapless crew member, Castle drifted away from the group to check out the rest of the room. Shelves had been bolted to the bulkhead and caged to prevent the contents from falling if the ship hit rough seas. They were stocked with spare parts, necessary for repairs to be performed far from landfall. He spotted a gap where one was missing. He drew in a deep breath, detecting more than the smell of sweat and lubricants.

Shifting his attention to the engine, Castle checked the machinery for new insertions. His eyebrows rose. Nothing appeared to have been recently replaced. Every component was covered with the same thin coating of time-blackened grease.

Captain Stubing called time, and the group retired to the lounge to digest their observations. Rick and Kate talked in low tones over aromatic cups of coffee and lavishly decorated cookies. "There were no defensive wounds," Kate noted. "I know the man was only pretending to be dead, but if we're supposed to think he put up a fight, they would have phonied up some bruises on him. From where the fake blood was on his head, he had to have been struck from behind. There was no sign of a murder weapon. That must be one of the clues we're supposed to be searching for."

"From the angle of the blow, how tall would you estimate our killer is supposed to be?" Castle asked.

"That's a good question, Babe. The blow was close to the neck. To hit at that angle, our killer would have to be short."

"A woman, perhaps? Not to imply that a woman would necessarily be of small stature, but I detected something else that might imply the cleverer gender."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Building up brownie points for later, Castle?"

"Or merely speaking the truth," he replied. "When I was perusing the perimeter of our murder scene, I sniffed a fragrance unlikely to be worn while attending to the chores necessary to propel a vessel. There was also a part missing from the storage area, but no sign that it was used for repairs."

"Why would someone steal an engine part?" Kate wondered. "Did the killer intend to disable the ship?"

"I would think that if our assumed femme fatale had, she would have done so," Castle offered. "The engine looked undisturbed. And I noticed one more thing in the space where that component should have been - flakes of metallic paint. Parts for engines aren't painted. It would wear off and clog the works. That paint was intended to disguise something, but apparently, the subterfuge was incomplete."

"Why would paint flake off?" Kate wondered.

"The surface it was on would have to be incompatible," Castle concluded. "Alexis and I ran up against that when we were doing props for her sixth-grade play. A magic gold circlet was supposed to have been transformed into base metal. We bought a couple of cheap gold-plated chokers, thinking we'd paint one of them and pull a presto change-o. But the paint wouldn't stick to the gold. It needed a surface it could bite into, and gold is almost inert. We ended up making the other circlet out of paper maché, which absorbed paint like a sponge."

"So, Castle, you think that someone was trying to disguise gold as an engine part and the killer took it."

"Or maybe platinum," Castle suggested. "That wouldn't have been paintable either, and it has a very high melting point. Someone could easily burn it clean with a torch. Doing that to a platinum crucible was one of the coolest parts of A.P. chemistry."

"Castle, sometimes I forget you were a science nerd."

"Still am, sometimes, especially when it helps with arcane plot points for a story. You went to Stuyvesant, one of the city's top-rated tech schools. I've always wondered why you weren't a science nerd yourself."

"I wanted to be a lawyer, at least until my mom was murdered. You know that. Stuy spawned a lot of them, including my dad. The critical thinking skills for figuring out how to pursue a case or an experiment aren't that much different."

"I never thought of it that way," Castle admitted, "but you're right. Either way, you have to look at the evidence, piece it together and see where it goes. It's just that lawyers try to push it in one direction or another."

Kate sighed. "Kyrsten Dodgeson's lawyer sure did that. He portrayed her to Judge Morrisey as 'Little Miss Innocent' although I don't think Morrisey really bought it."

"I would hope not," Castle said. "But right now, Kyrsten Dodgeson is the last person I want to think about. I'd rather figure out our next step toward unraveling the case at hand."

"What kind of perfume did you smell, Castle?"

"If I'm not mistaken, it was My Sin."

"Appropriate. Then I guess we look for a short woman who smells of sin."

Castle grinned. "If it weren't for the short part. I'd say there is one that qualifies, sitting across from me."

* * *

"The dance party that night was the perfect place for Rick and Kate to both sniff and mingle. Much as Castle would have loved to partner exclusively with Kate, the 5 to 1 ratio of women to men aboard the cruise made it almost obligatory that he would invite as many ladies as possible out on the floor to kick and trot. He chose the ones who'd shop in the petite section, as often as he could, but there seemed to be an overabundance of them. He couldn't help thinking of a multiplicity of Agatha Christie's mild-seeming but sharp-eyed Miss Marples. But then Miss Marple was never the murderer; she just figured out who was.

One woman who was not the least Marple-like caught his attention. Despite the tendency of the other female guests to sport headbands and feathers, she wore a hat from which a heavy netting covered her face. There was something familiar about her, but he could not recall meeting or reading about a Lily Veil. Her scent was not of My Sin, but it was familiar from all the years of his childhood spent backstage - theatrical makeup. In itself, there was nothing strange about that at a party on a costumed cruse, but he couldn't imagine why she would need it when her appearance was already concealed. Her voice was strange too as if she was lowering its normal pitch. Again, there was no reason to think of that as weird under the circumstances, but taking everything together, it added an extra touch of mystery. Unfortunately, it was a mystery he could not ponder further at that moment. He would have to choose partners closer to the profile he and Kate had developed for the engine room assailant. They could unravel other enigmas later.


	10. Chapter 10

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 10

While Castle was offering his services as a dance partner, Kate sat hunched over on an ornate settee in the ladies' room with a pained look on her face. She told any sympathetic passenger who asked that she was suffering from an ill-timed case of the cramps and was waiting for her medication to kick in. When the other visitors to the female domain went to a vanity to freshen up, Kate watched carefully in the mirror. A woman Kate estimated to be about 5 feet tall drew a small bottle from her purse and applied a few drops to her wrists and her neck. Kate was pretty sure that the scent wafting her way was the infamous My Sin. She had no idea who the aromatic woman was, but it wouldn't be hard to find out. The gold and scarlet flapper outfit she wore would make her easy enough to trail to her cabin. While their suspect was at breakfast the next morning, she and Castle could search the place. A precious metal engine part would confirm their suspicions.

"If we weren't on the ocean, I'd be sure that the earth moved," Castle joked after he and Kate had greeted the day in the most enthusiastic way possible within the tight confines of the double bed.

Kate pulled herself up, leaning against the bulkhead to which the bed had been tightly affixed, while the cabin continued to wobble. "Definitely not the calm seas the captain had hoped for. I hope our suspect is still in the mood to eat something."

"The person playing the role is probably a member of the crew," Castle speculated. "She should be used to this kind of thing. It's the passengers who may get queasy. If we go up on deck and keep our eyes on the horizon, we should be fine. I was out with Patterson when he was researching _Sail_. We ran into some pretty rough water. I found out that the worst thing you can do is huddle in your cabin."

"I'll take your word for that, Castle. Most of my boating experience has been rowing on the lake near my father's cabin. The worst thing that happened to me was a nasty sunburn from the reflection off the water. I peeled twice."

"Ouch!" Castle empathized. "I doubt there will be much sun to worry about today, and I doubt there will be an outdoor breakfast buffet either. In any case, I'm looking forward to ordering custom made waffles in the dining room. Somehow I can't stop thinking about whipped cream and juicy red strawberries."

Kate grabbed a handful of Castle ass. "I can't imagine why."

When Rick and Kate entered the dining room, it was less than half full, with no sign of their quarry. Castle was almost through with his waffles when she arrived, looking none the worse for the motion of the ship. A server brought her a platter filled with eggs, a short stack of pancakes, and three slices of bacon. Kate took a last sip of coffee. "Here we go."

Kate pulled her slim case of lockpicks from the pocket of her twenties-style trousers, but the cabin was unlocked. "Thoughtful," Castle remarked. "We can enter without breaking. Our suspect has a lot of breakfast to plow through, but she was chowing down at a pretty good clip. We should assume a rapid pace as well."

"Exactly what I had in mind," Kate responded. "You take the drawers, I'll check under the bed and in the closet and bathroom. How big do you think that engine part was?"

Castle held up his hands 6 inches apart. "It left a space about so."

Castle moved quickly but carefully, not wanting to leave a telltale disarray. He found an oddly shaped hunk of shiny metal splotched with remnants of duller metallic paint, hidden beneath a stout pair of shorts in the bottom drawer. "Gotcha!" he exclaimed. Rick admired the view as Kate wiggled backward from her explorations beneath the sleeping accommodations.

Triumphantly she held up a wrench generously daubed with reddish brown. "Double gotcha! We've found motive and means, Castle. And opportunity is the third strike. Just being aboard gives her that."

Castle noted the name on the stationary arranged on the cabin-sized writing desk. "Her costume last night was another clue. According to this, her nom de guerre is Golda Scarlett. It was Miss Scarlett in the engine room with a wrench."

Kate slapped her hand against her face and rolled her eyes. "We need to go register our conclusion with the captain. There is a party scheduled late this afternoon to celebrate whoever solved the case. There's supposed to be a mystery prize, too."

The ship lurched. "Wow, the way this voyage is going, attendance at the festivities may be pretty slim. We should both get some fresh, if damp, air," Castle suggested. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Shedding her silky robe, Kyrsten stepped beneath the tiny shower in the compact bath attached to her cabin. The water pressure could have been better and the spray a lot harder, but she still was counting on it to wake her up. Unable to sleep after her dance with Castle the night before, she'd downed one of the sleeping pills her doctor in New York had prescribed. She'd awakened to barely make it to the bathroom before losing what seemed to be everything she'd eaten since she boarded the ship, and possibly the plane to Nassau. The seasickness remedy the ship's physician had given her worked, but she had a hard time keeping her eyes open. She couldn't afford to fall asleep on the job. She was running out of time to get Castle. The effect of her medications had solidified a plan in her mind. She would catch both Castle and Kate Beckett unawares. The last thing they would know would be who was taking their lives from them. She'd hoped that she could find an exquisitely painful way to send them to their deaths, but the knife she'd stolen from a sous chef's carving station the day before would have to do. All she needed was another chance to get close to them, to set things in motion. She just had to make it to the party later. She'd observed that they both loved their wine, just as Nikki and Rook did. There was no shortage of excellent vintages on the ship. She did not doubt that they'd indulge. They might as well; it would be the last time they enjoyed anything.

When Rick and Kate delivered their solution to the murder, the captain informed them that the storm was too far away to drop any rain on the ship. The seas would be choppy, but that would pass in a few hours. He expected calm water by the time the party would start.

Enjoying a few steadying moments on deck, Rick and Kate gazed out over the water, their faces coated with fine spray. Did you see the woman with the hat and the veil?" Castle asked. She rang a bell with me, and I wanted to check her out if there's time. I Googled the name she gave me. There are lily veils, but there isn't a character called that. No other woman is wearing a veil either. If anything, women being as unfettered as possible in the roaring twenties. And I think Lily was wearing makeup under her veil. Who except aging divas does that? And she wasn't aging."

"Babe, she's probably just overenthusiastic about dress-up, but if I have a chance to look her over before we have to get off the ship tomorrow, I will," Kate promised.


	11. Chapter 11

My Bloody Valentine

Chapter 11

Kate slipped an ornate garter up under the sparkly abbreviated skirt of her gown, while Castle looked on in admiration. "It's going to be a long night while I'm waiting to get that off you."

"I wish I had a gun to stick into it," Kate brooded. "I've felt naked without one."

"But you are magnificent when you are naked, and the only crimes here are staged, the one we solved, and the ones presented to other teams. You'll be warming cold steel with your hotness soon enough when we return to New York."

Kate shook her head, rattling the bright beads on the band that encircled her hair. "I don't know, Babe. I have a feeling that something is off. Maybe it's because I haven't seen your Lily Veil yet, since she didn't show up for lunch."

"Lots of people didn't show up for lunch, Kate. She'll probably be at the celebration of the great reveals. I don't see how someone that devoted to cosplay would miss it."

* * *

The grand auditorium had been decorated to resemble a speakeasy. Waiters circulated with trays of buttered bread, egg sandwiches and lobster canapes. Castle was fascinated by the bar. He'd studied drinks of the period as research before he'd decided to buy The Old Haunt, and he was interested to see how an experienced mixologist crafted sidecars, old fashioneds, south sides and especially the Champagne laden French 75.

Kate eased through the room, hoping to spot Castle's mystery woman. She located her at a table, slowly sipping what appeared to be nothing stronger than water, with her eyes glued to Castle. Kate's teeth worried her lip as she joined Rick. She's here, Babe. And she's watching you."

Castle glanced in the mirror above the bar. "Now she's watching us. Oh! She's getting up. Looks like she's heading this way. I guess I'll have occasion to make introductions."

Kyrsten wove her way through the crowd of revelers and leaned her elbows on the antiqued wood surface next to Rick. Her voice rose from deep in her throat. "Remember me?"

Castle forced a smile. "Of course, how could I forget a character as intriguing as Lily Veil? Any plans to finally unmask?"

"And spoil the illusion?" Kyrsten responded. "No, in this world, I am Lily Veil, and she would love to invite the intrepid mystery writer and his beautiful companion to her table for a drink."

Rick caught Kate's eye and her subtle look of assent, and they followed the woman through the masses of partiers. A waiter brought three brightly colored sweet cocktails. A bell sounded, and the inhabitants of the dance floor parted to make way for the professional hoofers, who gave a spirited demonstration of the Charleston.

While Kate and Rick were watching the lively antics, Kyrsten saw her chance, slipping powder she'd emptied from her sleeping and motion sickness capsules into their drinks. Kate saw the motion out of the corner of her eye and touched Castle under the table. When he turned to her, Kate's eyes darted to the drinks, with a warning look.

When the display of raucous footwork had ended, Castle gazed around the table. "Do either of you lovely ladies care to give it a try?"

"I think I'll sit this one out," Kate demurred, "but take Lily. Have some fun."

Castle led Kyrsten into the crowd that was reforming, making sure that his partner's view of the table would be obscured while they executed the vintage maneuvers. As soon as she was sure she'd remain unseen, Kate poured the doctored drinks into a nearby potted palm and signaled the waiter for two new ones, before Kyrsten and Rick returned.

The music stopped and on a raised dais, the captain took the microphone. "I hope that everyone is enjoying themselves." Applause and a few whistles filled the room. "You gals and gents are the bees' knees! On behalf of Mystery Cruises, I would like to thank all of you for joining us on this adventure. Now it is my great pleasure to announce the master sleuths this voyage. First, Blooming Gently, for solving the case of the purloining purser."

There was more applause as a slight, gray-haired woman that Castle had pegged as one of his Marples approached the podium. Captain Stuber inclined his head in acknowledgment and handed her a gilded envelope. Eyes shining behind wire-rimmed glasses, and proudly holding her prize aloft, Blooming made her way back into the assemblage.

"Next," Stuber announced, "Sam Speed, for unraveling the mystery of the purposeless pastor."

A man with slicked back hair and an intricately curled mustache claimed his reward.

"And finally," the captain continued, "to Richard Castle and Kate Beckett, the grand prize for unmasking the murderous Scarlett Smuggler."

Hand in hand Kate and Rick climbed the two steps to the dais. Stuber bowed to Kate, shook hands with Rick and handed them another envelope and a glittering trophy. They returned amid their ovation, to their table with Kyrsten. Kate wobbled, then steadied herself on the back of a chair. Babe, I'd love to stay and celebrate, but I'm feeling a little woozy."

"So am I. The staff must have put some extra prohibition-era oomf into those drinks," Castle speculated. He turned to Kyrsten. "I hope you'll excuse us. My wife and I will have to cut this evening short."

"I understand," Kyrsten responded, glad that her veil obscured the glow of victory on her face. Beneath the table, she fingered a passkey she'd pickpocketed from a steward.

"Castle," Kate said, as soon as they were away from the hubbub, "I think Lily Veil is Kyrsten Dodgeson. When you took her to the dancefloor, I saw marks on her ankle, the kind she would get from one of those electronic monitors, and it all fell into place. She's the same size as Kyrsten. Her coloring is different, but that could be the makeup you noticed. Her family has more than enough money to finance an escape. They would only have had to put up 10 percent of the bail. To them, $500,000 is pocket change. Even $5 million wouldn't be that big a hit. Kyrsten must have traced us here."

"If you're right, she probably thinks she's drugged us and will be coming after us."

"Now I really wish I had my gun, but we can improvise. We'll be ready for her," Kate declared.

Minus only their shoes and Kate's headband, Kate and Rick slipped into bed and pulled the covers up to their chins. Hands tightly clasped, they waited. A half-hour later they heard the lock turn.

Kyrsten gazed at the unconscious figures and caressed her knife. "I hope you wake up enough to feel the pain before you go to hell," she exclaimed.

Kate sprang out of bed, her stunning blow knocking the blade from Kyrsten's numbed fingers. Before Kyrsten recovered, Castle grabbed her and used the weight of his body to pin her down, while Kate employed a sash to secure their would-be attacker's hands and a belt to bind her feet. Castle stared down at their prisoner. "I think this time the judge is going to give you more than bail and bondage."

After Kyrsten had been turned over to the authorities in Nassau to await extradition, Rick and Kate boarded a plane for home. Kate settled into the roomy first-class window seat while Castle sat on the aisle beside her. "You know Castle," she said. "We were concentrating so much on capturing Kyrsten that we never even looked inside the envelope Captain Stuber gave us. Besides the trophy, what do you think we won?"

"Easy enough to find out," Castle replied, drawing the object in question from an inner pocket of his jacket. He handed it to her. "Care to do the honors?"

Kate broke the seal and drew out the paper inside. "It's a voucher for another cruise. Any one we want."

"All things considered," Castle proposed, "maybe next time around we should take the soap opera excursion." He grinned and stroked her cheek. "More sex but less stabbing - except for the metaphorical kind."

Smiling, Kate snuggled into her husband's shoulder.

Finis

A/N My next story will be AU. In "Finding Her Hero," taking off from Knockdown, Castle breaks his hand beating Hal Lockwood senseless. With Alexis busy with a school project and Martha working on a play, Kate decides to stay with Rick until he can function better.


End file.
